He watched the video over and over, unable to detect what was different about how Greyson had said the words as opposed to how Reikart or Ian had said them. And what the hell did those words even mean? Why the hell had he not asked Rhys what the Gaelic translated to when his brother had written down what they were supposed to say?
“Damn it!” he shouted, barely resisting the urge to fling his phone across the room.
The phone starting ringing and vibrating against his palm. He’d forgotten that’s what had woken him in the first place. Reikart glanced at the time—4:00 a.m.—and knew it was his youngest brother, Ian, before he even looked at the name that lit up his screen.
Reikart and Ian were the only two McCaim brothers left—in this time. He still felt crazy even allowing the thought, but he wasn’t insane. The truth was. He punched the green “Accept” button on his phone, and Ian immediately spoke. “Greyson’s contingency plan is bullshit.”
“Yep,” Reikart agreed. Greyson’s words repeated in his head:We try it again, and if anyone stays, they just keep trying and trying until we get to the bottom of this.
“Reik,” Ian said, the tremor running through his tone making Reikart battle back his own fear. “Reik, I can’t believe Greyson is gone, too.” Ian needed Reikart now, but he didn’t want to be needed. Being needed by someone and letting them down left a hole in your chest that could not be filled. Somewhere in time, Mom, Rhys, and now Greyson likely needed him, too. And Dad sure as hell needed him to keep his shit together.
Damn.
This was his chance to prove to his dad he wasn’t a screwup. Except he was. He was the ultimate screwup. His recklessness had killed Amanda. It didn’t mean a damn thing that he hadn’t meant to. He’d been angry at his dad for once again comparing him with Rhys, and he’d allowed his anger to push him into being stupid. There was no going back, and even after four years, he still hadn’t figured out how to really move forward.
You’re not worthy of moving forward.
That was a fact, but that truth did not change that his family needed him. And he could not blow off that need as he’d taken to blowing off almost everything since the accident. It was time to step up to the plate, if only long enough to help his family.
“Reik, do you think it kills you to travel through time?” Ian asked, his voice barely more than a whisper into the phone.
“Hell no,” Reikart answered, refusing to believe such a possibility. Screw death, the bastard.
“Reporters are camped in front of the house,” Ian said.
An instant mental image of the family mansion on St. Charles Avenue appeared in Reikart’s mind. “Yeah, well, with Dad in the hospital in a coma, and public speculation that Rhys checked into rehab…” He let his words fade. Rhys barely even drank, and he’d never done drugs in his entire life, but Greyson, Ian, and Reikart had decided to let the gossip columnist run with the assumption about Rhys being in rehab since it was an easy way to explain why he’d suddenly gone missing. They’d told the reporters who had called digging for information that Rhys was on an extended vacation, but apparently no one rich was allowed to simply go on a damn vacation. You had to be in rehab. So rehab it was. Let them spin their wheels trying to discover which one. That would keep them busy for a while. “Maybe Greyson can be in rehab, too,” Reikart said with a hollow laugh.
“Jesus,” was all Ian said in response, then, “Jesus,” again. “I can’t believe it. I just still cannot believe it. Can you? Can you believe it?”
“Well, since they both disappeared before our eyes, I’d say we have no choice but to believe it.”
“Yeah.” Ian’s heavy sigh came through loud and clear. “Yeah, I know. What should we do now?”
“I’m going over to Rhys’s place,” Reikart said, an idea suddenly coming to him. “I have a key, and I’m going to see if I can find contact info for his old graduate school friend, the one who also spoke Gaelic.”
“Axtell?” Ian asked.
“Yeah.”
“I wish I’d learned Gaelic like Mom wanted us to,” Ian said.
“Yeah, well, if that’s your only regret, consider yourself lucky,” Reikart retorted.
“You’re an asshole,” Ian snapped.
Damn. His brother was right, but he’d been working on perfecting that persona since Amanda’s death, and the last five days could not change that. Still, this was his baby brother. “I am an asshole. Sorry. Maybe Axtell can tell me what the chant means and if there’s a special way to pronounce the Gaelic words. I have a gut feeling that’s the key. I recorded us last night, but I can’t detect anything different in the way Greyson was saying the chant from how we were saying it.”
“Let’s just try again now,” Ian said. Before Reikart could get in a response, Ian continued. “Dad needs us. Mom needs us. Greyson and Rhys need us. We can’t leave Dad alone, but we can’t abandon the rest of our family. And what the hell are we supposed to do about the company?”
Ian’s words were coming like rapid bullets pelting Reikart’s eardrums. Ian was upset. Reikart stood and started pacing his bedroom. He’d never been one who could sit still. His need for movement was made much worse when he was trying to work through a difficult mental problem. Movement helped him to think.
Reikart paused long enough to say, “You call Jeremy and ask him to meet us at Dad’s house.”
“And why am I calling our cousin?” Ian demanded. “Let’s just try the chant again. Come over.”
“No,” Reikart said. “Calm down. You just listed the two main reasons we can’t just go off half-cocked and try the chant again: Dad and the company. We need a real contingency plan, and I don’t think just trying again will do the trick. But on the off chance it does, things need to be in place for Dad. If we both manage to travel through time when we say the chant again, we cannot leave things in chaos. We have to ensure Dad and the company are taken care of, and I don’t trust anyone to do that but Jeremy.”
“Jeremy is going to think we’ve lost our damn minds,” Ian bit out.
